


First Time for Everything

by MLMDarkFiction



Category: House of Wax (2005)
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 20:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17148230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MLMDarkFiction/pseuds/MLMDarkFiction
Summary: Prompt: It's been a while since Bo's gotten any. One night while out at a bar he comes across a pretty young man, and decides to take him for himself.Original Male Character/Reader FC is: Bryan Dechart





	First Time for Everything

Bo wouldn’t say he’s desperate. He is, don’t misunderstand, but he wouldn’t say it outloud, certainly wouldn’t accept the fact. He’s a charming man, and he knows it. Many a night he’s able to charm some pretty thing into a quick fuck behind a bar before returning to his home in Ambrose, but tonight’s not one of those nights. 

 

“Fine, leave then ya stuck up bitch!” 

  
He grumbles into his drink as he watches what he believes to be his last chance at getting laid leave the bar. It’s all Vincent’s fault anyway. If he hadn’t had to watch out for him then he could have left earlier, could have arrived at this bar sooner than thirty minutes to closing, and definitely could have talked some rando into giving up a nice warm hole for him to put his dick into. 

 

Bo’s still busy glaring into his bourbon and coke when he hears the bartender chastising another patron. Funny, Bo had thought the bar to be empty, except for him and the man behind the bar.

 

“You drank way too much...Listen here, I’ll call you a cab, but next time I’m limiting you buddy.”

 

Now Bo’s not gay, and he definitely not desperate, but the man, a boy really, old enough to drink, but younger than Bo by what he guesses to be a good ten or so years, is real pretty.  Something about that curly quaffed hair, and the dazed inebriated look in those brown eyes is enough to make Bo’s already eager dick twitch in his pants. 

 

He wastes no time in moving, his drink is downed in one go, glass returned to the table, as he stands grabbing for his coat, and making his way to the door.

 

“I got it,” 

 

Bo says, flashing the bartender a smile. He’s come here before, a town close enough for Ambrose for Bo to visit often, but far enough that the man knows nothing about Bo besides his face. 

 

Bo is charming. The mans watched Bo walk out of this very bar with women before, and in the end they all came back satisfied, and alright in the end.

  
“We’ll share a cab,” 

 

He persists, ignoring the questioning look of the barkeeper, focused on the way the drunk young man's eyes light up.

  
“Really? That’s so nice-”

  
And in the end, he lets Bo and the stranger, Bo quickly finds out on the ride back that his name is ____, go, after all it’s not his responsibility, and he wants to close the bar to go home himself.

 

Taking this boy back to Ambrose is one of the easiest things he’s ever done. The poor guy never saw it come. He doesn’t question when Bo leads him back to his truck instead of a cab, and it isn’t long before he’s sleeping like a baby in the passenger seat, allowing himself to be easily transported no questions asked. 

 

Bo can feel the lingering and questioning gaze of Vincent watching him from the windows of their shared home as he pulls in the driveway, sleeping stranger still in the truck undisturbed. ____ weighs like nothing to Bo, just like a girl, and it’s easy enough for Bo to carry the man bridal style up the stairs, and into the home. 

 

Vincent doesn’t get within five feet before Bo’s already snapping at his curious brother, 

 

“You stay over there, ya hear? He’s got nothing to do with you.” 

 

And Vincent listens. He watches his brother carry the sleeping man up the stairs, until both their forms disappear into the hallway, before leaving himself in one of the many extra passages of their home. It’s the first time Bo’s brought someone home like this. Someone’s that he doesn’t want Vincent to make into art, and although curious and confused, Vincent’s not going to argue. He knows better than to ask to many questions. It just makes Bo upset. 

 

It’s easy to tie ____ to the bed. He’s malleable in his sleep, and although he groans and mumbles, making Bo afraid he’s going to make up, the amount he drank is enough to ensure he’s out in a stupor. A sleeping, not  struggling subject is much easier to tie down to the bed. It’s so easy, that Bo even considers not getting the duck tape, but he’s already made the decision to bring the boy here, he wants him to last, and that means no escaping. 

 

So with a heavy heart, he applies an extra layer of duct tape onto the restraints, just like mommy and daddy taught him, and then, once he’s sure it’s secure, he goes to explain what little he’s willing to to Vincent. 

 

-

 

Bo is eager, his erection straining heavy in his pants, but he knows that good things come to those that wait. He knows for a fact he’ll enjoy the look on ____ when the boy wakes up and realizes he’s bound, when he starts to struggle and panic, and try to figure out what’s going on.

 

And more than that, Bo is new to this. He’s not a virgin, no, he’s fucked lots of women before. That’s it. He’s fucked women. He’s never fucked another man. 

 

He’ll deal with his internal battle about if it’s ‘gay’ or not later, but for now he wants to make sure he does it right. It can’t be too different then anal with a woman, and so he takes things slow, one hand in his pants, stroking himself with a lubed hand, getting his cock nice and wet, while watching the sleeping ____.

Bo doesn’t have to wait very long. He knows from experience that sleeping bound isn’t very comfortable. The moment ____ tries to move in his sleep, and readjust only to realize that he’s been forcibly tied down to the bed he wakes. 

 

There’s always something cute about watching a shocked and frightened young man wake up. It gives Bo an idea. 

 

He pats the boy ona face once, then twice, and then takes a moment to feel the curve of his cheek bones entranced for a moment.

 

“What’s-” 

 

His words are still slurred thanks to the alcohol. 

 

_ Perfect. _

 

“You stay right here, I’ll be back.”

-

Bo’s not worried. He takes his sweet time. It’s all too easy to find a candle in their house, and he’s already got a lighter on his person. But he waits. He sits outside the door to his room, and listens to the whimpering and whining from behind the door. He waits until the whimpers turn into something much more coherent, until he’s sure the adrenaline from the situation has gotten rid of the fog from the alcohol. 

 

“You know,”

  
He throws the door open, appreciating the large slam, unbothered by his knocking a hole in the wall. It’s worth it to see ____ stop at once, his face still scrunched in terror, hair clinging to his face, chest heaving in panic, eyes glued to Bo’s figure. 

 

Fear is intoxicating for Bo. There’s nothing better than knowing you have power over somebody, and knowing they know it to. 

  
“You look perfect like this.”

 

The candle, and lighter both find there way to the bedside table, while Bo reaches across to gently smooth out the panicked mans bangs. He watches while his panicked brown eyes dash towards the bedside table, and then at Bo’s wrist. 

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you enjoy this too.”

 

It’s a lie. They both know it. The smirk on Bo’s face is enough to let ____ know that he’s not going to enjoy whatever it is Bo’s got planned. 

 

Bo reaches for his bowie knife, eyes flicking to it, and back to ____, wanting to intimidate the boy.  He twirls the knife between his fingers before stabbing it down between ____’s legs, careful not to actually hit his dick or anything else  _ important,  _ but the knife cuts through the fabric of his pants. 

 

The only bits exposed are just what Bo needs, just ____’s thighs and bellow. He gives an experimental smack to the pale flesh their, enjoying when the other man bucks away from the touch, red hand print soon forming in its place.    
  
“There, see, that ain’t too hard, is it?”

 

Now that he’s exposed to the air, and exposed to Bo, Bo reaches for the candle. It’s a bit stereotypical, given everything, for him to be into wax play, and Bo knows it, but it doesn’t stop him. He lights the candle, holding it above ____, streaming mismatched shapes made of wax onto the man's thighs.  Delighting in the hisses of pain, and the feverish bucks and gyrating of his hips as he tries to keep Bo from dripping the bubbling wax onto his dick and balls. 

 

It’s enough wax. Bo is tired of playing. ____’s reactions are all blurring together, and becoming the same, and Bo’s been hard this whole time. His cock is practically aching for some kind of relief.    
  


“Please don’t- I don’t know what you want, but I-I’ll-”

 

Still he’s not an idiot, Bo knows going in dry, and with ____ unprepped is just going to end up hurting them both. He grabs the lube from his stroking before, and pours a sizable amount out onto his hand. 

 

He feels ____ tensing ring of muscles with just the probe of his forefinger. 

 

“You’ve never been with a man, have ya?”

 

Bo doesn’t let ____ answer, in fact he takes the moment when he opens his mouth to either reply, or go back to begging, he shoves his unlubed fingers into his mouth. 

 

“Why don’t you suck on those while I get you nice and loose for me, alright?”

 

He doesn’t, and Bo doesn’t really mind the blatant ignoring of orders either. He just probes further into his mouth enjoying the wet sounds it makes, while his other hand busies itself with the other hole, one finger pushing itself inside. 

 

Bo whistles through his teeth.  ____ really never has had anything inside him before, it’s easy to tell now, he’s nice, and tight and wet, and perfect. He feels the boy try and clench down around his finger to dissuade him from pushing any further in, but it only makes Bo moans lowly imagining how good it would feel against his cock. 

 

“If you clench like that,  **mmmm** baby.” 

 

He pulls his hand from ____’s mouth before pressing any more fingers to his lower hole, not wanting to risk having a finger bitten off due to the shock. The saliva is rubbed off on ____ ignored, flaccid cock, Bo gives it a couple of pumps, but when he can’t even manage to get the other up to at least half a chub he quickly forgets it and goes back to the task at hand. Stretching. 

 

“You may wanna bite the pillow.” 

 

In one fluid movement Bo yanks the pillow out from behind ____, letting his head fall back against the bed, and then he places the pillow firmly over his face as if he’s going to smother him. He’s not, but the feeling of ____ clenching around his fingers while struggling to escape, fearing that Bo’s going to finally end this whole thing once and for all is delightful.

 

____ screams out against the pillow, the sound obviously muffled, and met only with laughter from the older Sinclair brother. He moves the two fingers that are still inside him in a scissoring motion, and even Bo winces when _____ clenches too hard causing something to tear at his menstrations. Still, Bo only smirks. It’s not his fault after all, he was doing  _ everything  _ he could to prepare the other so this wouldn’t happen.

 

“Now let's get to the main event, shall we?”

 

Bo starts to unbuckle his belt, just as he hears a large crash from downstairs. 

 

“Ignore that, shall we-”

 

But then there’s more disturbance, and Bo growls. He throws the pillow off from ____’s face, and buckles his belt back, shoving his throbbing cock back inside and zipping them up.

 

“Vincent, I swear to god, this house better be burning to the goddamn ground!”

**Author's Note:**

> Have a request? Mlmdarkfiction.tumblr.com/ask


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